


hína alqualondë

by mickleborger



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, First Kinslaying, sad elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 09:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickleborger/pseuds/mickleborger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mrs. Curufin accompanies her husband and son to Swanhaven during the Flight.</p><p>She accompanies them to Swanhaven, and no further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hína alqualondë

Rage does not take him often, but once it has it does not yield.  In this he is like his father; but I am nothing like his mother, and when his eyes glimmer like the walls of Haven there is no way to calm him.  His is too slow and steady a fire to be quelled, burning hot and hidden under the keenness of his glance.

And his glance is too keen, almost.  It burns too brightly for eyes so dark, and it is as if his father's silmarils are set under the hood of his brow.  I told him this once in the hush of the morning - but only once, for his gaze darkened then (and darkened only that once), and his voice was cold like lost bits of silver on the ground of a forge when he answered: "There is nothing in this world or beyond it like my father's silmarils."

But there is, though I cannot say it now.  The silmarils are taken but I see them still in his eyes, gleaming as they never have before.  They burn like his father's spirit and his brothers' voices; and like his sword they are without pity.

I came from Haven long ago, though there are no years in Aman and I remember the waves as clearly as if I walked still beside them in the light.  I hear them now, behind the screams and the crash of blades.  I hear them and their murmur is of mourning.

He looks towards me.  His sword is drawn and his face is dark.  I open my mouth to call for a hold, to plead for a stay of what is already in motion; but the starlight catches him and I see his eyes, nothing but fire, and I know he is as lost to me as I am to him.

He turns his back to me for the last time.

I cannot find Tyelperinquar.


End file.
